


April Fools' Day

by almondjoyz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-31
Updated: 2008-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almondjoyz/pseuds/almondjoyz
Summary: Fred and George were born on a truly prophetic day. But once George is alone, how's he going to handle April first?





	April Fools' Day

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Thanks to **LnaLvgd** and **TheSteppyOne** for the beta work on this.  


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I thought I'd feel better by now. After all, it has been almost a year. Everyone else seemed to have moved on; Bill and Fleur are expecting; Mum stopped crying around Guy Fawkes Day; Dad started whistling again as he tinkered around the shed; Percy, the great wanker, found himself a girlfriend; Ron finally went all the way with Hermione and Ginny signed on with the Harpies for next season. I'm happy that everyone has some sort of a normal life, really I am. But they didn't lose half themselves. 

And today is our, sorry, _my_ birthday.

Do you know how hard is it to refer to myself in the singular after being part of a set for twenty years? Part of me died that day, and the past eleven months have been a cruel joke that Fate won't stop. Even I know when to stop when a joke goes too far.

On our birthday last year, the last one we would share, it was bittersweet. Once Ginny returned for the Easter hols, we left for Muriel's, deciding it would be safer there for all of us. We hadn't had any news about Ron and the others since Remus visited them. The worry was palpable in the house. Fred made me a birthday present that made me, along with everyone else smile. He made a picture show with photos of him and I over the years with the majority of them showing times when we got into trouble of some sort. We had a great laugh and forgot about the bleak world around us.

He would only live another month.

For a while after he died, I felt guilty because I couldn't cry. I was in shock, denial and steeped in anger that wouldn't go away. At the funeral, I watched as my family cried in great waves of tears; even Harry, in his heroic stoicism, broke down. My eyes stayed dry as I heard the whispers around me from people who thought I needed help or that I was being cruel to my brother's memory. They felt sorry for me, saying that things would get better, that they hoped I'd bounce back, and that they understood what I was going through.

That last one really bothered me.

Unless you're a twin, you can't fathom the idea of being separated from your twin, by any means. Our brains were wired differently than everyone else's and that's what made us work so brilliantly together. There were really only a few people who understood and, surprisingly, my greatest supports were the Patils. They approached me a few days after we buried Fred and went on a walk with me. They had some sort of idea of what I was going through since the Sorting Hat separated them. They listened to me rant and the let me silently sit in their company. They stopped by about once a week and when they returned to Hogwarts, they wrote to me and made sure that I got out of the flat and to let me know that someone cared about me. I entertained the notion of fancying one of them, but, honestly, you can't love someone romantically when the beating of your own heart reminds you that someone that is identical to you isn't around anymore.

As far as the shop went, it was difficult to go back. In fact, I wouldn't even set foot in Diagon Alley until August; Ginny and Ron made me. I was ambushed and Apparated to the shop illegally by my not-quite seventeen-year-old sister. Once there, Ron slapped an Auror spell on me so I couldn't run away. I looked around the place, once so full of life and cringed. The shelves were covered in thick layers of dust, Pygmy Puff skeletons lay in the cages and an acrid odour of smoke hung in the air.

"Do you think he'd want all you've worked for, to go to waste?" Ginny screeched. "Would he be happy that you've tossed your dream, the one the two of you had for YEARS, into the dustbin?" She had begun to shake and looked ready to break down. I hated seeing her cry, whether it was my fault or not.

"I just…can't..not without him," I said through throaty gasps.

"I'm helping," Ron declared. "I already talked to Kingsley and he told me I can train part-time, seeing how I can do most of the stuff a full-fledged Auror can anyway."

"Ron—"

"No! You listen to me, George!" Ron's face reddened and he jabbed me in the chest with his wand. "I miss him, too, you know. Hell, I'm doing the Auror thing for him to make damned sure no one sets Dark Magic loose on the world again."

I didn't know; I didn't think Ron would do something like that, his selflessness catching me off guard. He'd wanted to be an Auror since he was fourteen, and here he was, delaying that dream to help me. 

Me.

In the singular.

"George," Ginny said softly, laying a hand on my shoulder. "George, the name Weasley is on the sign and painted on the window. There's eight—nine—of us if you count Phlegm, that want to help you. D'you honestly think I can wreak havoc at school without a steady stream of Weasley products?" Her smile wavered a bit as the tears finally broke through.

I stood in silence, looking at my most stubborn siblings, knowing that at that moment, if I wanted any resemblance to a normal life, I'd have to let them help me.

"Oh—okay."

"Thank Merlin," came a familiar voice from the back of the shop.

I turned around and saw my parents, all three of my brothers (including Charlie!), Harry, Hermione and Fleur. They all wore grubby work clothes, signalling their intent to clean things up.

"So, George, let's get those skeletons out of here. I hear that Borgin & Burkes'll pay a pretty Knut for them," Charlie teased, which earned him a swat from Mum.

That day, we stayed at the shop all day, cleaning, deodorizing, delousing and decontaminating the place. Bill and Fleur went in the back and read through Fred's and my notes, completing several projects we left behind. Mum and Hermione redid the Wonder Witch display and even added a few of Mum's homemade skin care recipes. From what I saw, I knew they'd planned this for a long time. Once the shop was ready, Dad placed a framed picture of Fred and me, taken by Colin Creevey, as we flew away from Hogwarts on our brooms. It was the beginning of all this and I smiled, nodding my head in approval.

As the months went by, I began to feel better about things. I began to crawl out of my shell and become more of myself, albeit slowly and with some setback along the way. Ron was true to his word and was a great help. He attended classes three days a week and was at the shop the other four. Besides having a great head for marketing, it was a great boon to have a bona fide war hero at the shop to bring in the female population. 

But today, 1 April 1999, is a difficult day. There was no birthday prank to wake me in the morning, no jovial teasing about being the "baby" because I'm a whopping eight minutes younger. Mum's cooking dinner tonight, and when she asked me what I wanted to eat, I automatically answered with Fred's favourites, when in fact, I really didn't like Parmesan Aubergine casserole or twice-baked potatoes. It was as if Fred had wormed his way into my mind and took over. Mum's face furrowed in question and concern and the words poured out of me.

"It's Fred's day, Mum. I don't want to think about the day he died anymore. I'd rather remember the day he was born, when we pulled off the best practical joke on the world."

Mum chuckled and hugged me fiercely.

Those words were true and I meant every one of them. I don't expect my birthdays to hold the same joy as they once did simply because celebrating alone just seems…wrong.

So today is the first annual April Fool's Day Sale at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. 

Everything is half off.

 

 


End file.
